The Human History of Those Gods: A Continuous Stream

The mountain spirit was facing Liang Song, shrinking into a small ball, looking only about 13 or 4 years old. Because it was looking down, Liang Song could only see the top of its head. Its hair was unexpectedly clean and thick, gathered at the back of its head and tied into a Taoist bun with a strip of coarse cloth.

Sensing Liang Song's gaze, the mountain spirit raised its head, glanced at Liang Song quickly, and then averted its gaze. The mountain spirit had bright eyes and long eyelashes. In the firelight, the shadows of its eyelashes covered its face. Its skin was dark and mottled, but its texture was very fine. Its lack of sexual characteristics made it impossible for Liang Song to determine its gender.

Little friend? Young brother? Young Taoist priest? Liang Song considered how to address him.

"Young man? Is this your home?" He chose a word.

"Hmm." The mountain spirit sniffed.

"Your...family members are all...not home?"

The mountain spirit looked up at him again, and Liang Song met his eyes. Legend says that those with blue eyes and square pupils are immortals; could this mountain spirit have strange eyes? Perhaps he is an immortal? After all, he is incredibly handsome; it's not impossible that he might have attracted the attention of an immortal who would descend to save him.

He was quite pleased with his absurd idea; his unrestrained and imaginative style was what set him apart from others.

"My master has ascended to immortality. Now I'm all alone." The mountain spirit poked at the embers, sparks flew, and darkness returned.

Liang Song paused for a moment before realizing that the mountain spirit had a master, who had already passed away. He suddenly felt a pang of pity for the child before him. With his limited understanding, he couldn't comprehend anything too complex. Being a lively person, he instinctively felt that living alone in the desolate mountains year after year was a cruel punishment. He coughed, trying to continue the conversation, but couldn't find a suitable topic. Indeed, what could he possibly talk about with a wild mountain spirit in the middle of nowhere?

"Oh, you had a master? You... cultivate immortality?"

Liang Song finally found a topic to talk about. Cultivation was not unfamiliar to him. He had a childhood friend who was a cultivation enthusiast. He had heard of things like Core Formation, Ascension, and Sword Dissolution.

"I don't cultivate immortality, I just live here." The mountain spirit spoke clearly, but his accent was very complicated, and Liang Song couldn't tell where he was from. "Have you always lived here?" The mountain spirit looked up at him, then shifted his feet, clearly not intending to answer.

Of course, Liang and Song didn't care about this at all. For them, in the face of life and death on the snowy and barren Aimang Mountain, having a place to stay, a charcoal brazier, and a hot and fragrant roasted potato was already a paradise on earth.

The fire in the charcoal brazier grew ever stronger, flames leaping overhead, sparks popping and crackling, the sounds echoing and reverberating deep into the hall, reverberating along the walls, making the hall seem even more profound and silent. Without a second thought, he slipped off his clumsy, heavy hiking boots, rubbing his cold, aching toes. Liang Song had long, straight legs—the kind of legs a man born for idol dramas would have chosen. He half-reclined in front of the brazier, pulled out his phone (which had no signal), and with only two bars of battery left, he reluctantly turned it off.

The mountain spirit stole a glance at Liang Song before quickly averting its gaze, like a startled... golden monkey.

Liang Song felt his choice of words was quite vivid, even making the mountain spirit seem a bit like a golden monkey in cuteness. He immediately felt pleased. It has to be said that Liang Song was an easily pleased person, and his cheerful mood was always so contagious that even the black cat noticed. It strolled over from the corner, soft and delicate, and rubbed its body against Liang Song's legs, its tail slowly curving into half a heart.

What an unreserved cat! Liang Song thought to herself. The little black cat was still warm from sitting by the fire, and it felt warm and soft to the touch. Liang Song couldn't help but meow, as if she wanted to say something to the little black cat.

The mountain spirit, curled up opposite them, looked up at the two of them and said, "Its name is Nan Dou." Then, as if afraid Liang Song wouldn't understand, it pointed to the sky and said, "Stars, the stars in the sky. Nan Dou."

There were no stars in the sky at this time, only a few faintly visible beams hidden in the darkness of the silent hall.

The Southern Dipper is an important constellation in Taoist star worship, named for its dipper-like shape as it lies south of the Big Dipper. The deified Southern Dipper consists of six stars, all of whom are deities associated with prolonging life. The first star is the renowned Siming Xingjun, a staple of many fantasy dramas. The *Duren Jing* states: "The Southern Dipper governs life, the Northern Dipper governs death."

Because the Southern Dipper governs life, it is also known as "Longevity Star" in Chinese folklore. Of course, the Southern Dipper actually encompasses and governs more than just extending lifespan.

In truth, Liang Song knew nothing about the Southern Dipper. At this moment, everything he saw today was merely a fleeting glimpse into his life, including the distant stars, the dilapidated Taoist temple, the wild mountain spirit hugging its knees, and the skinny, small, and rustic ugly cat with sharp eyes and a protruding mouth. He petted it simply out of interest, nothing more.

A fog gradually rose around them. The fog was thick, but the light board in the center of Shangjiu was still visible. A flamboyant, brightly colored mannequin peeked out from behind the light board, staring intently at Liang Song with a seductive and alluring gaze. Liang Song was somewhat bewildered; he seemed to have no recollection of how he got there, nor did he seem to know where he was going.

The fog grew thicker, and the damp air carried the metallic smell of cast iron. When Liang Song was a child, his family was not well-off. They lived in a damp, old alleyway where all sorts of shops lined the ground floor. Some sold fish, some meat, some vegetables, and others wove baskets. Even at night, the sounds of people playing and laughing continued until late.

Right next to Liang Song's house was a blacksmith shop. Everyone called the shop owner Uncle Luo. For a long time, Liang Song thought his surname was Luo or Luo (罗). Until one day, Shi Yufen told him that many people came to the blacksmith shop looking for a Chinese medicine called "Sheng Tie Luo" (生铁落). Gradually, everyone started calling him Uncle Luo. The iron sparks from forging iron, after falling to the ground and removing the coal and impurities, are washed, dried, and become a Chinese medicine called Sheng Tie Luo. A decoction of Sheng Tie Luo is called Sheng Tie Luo Yin (生铁落饮), which is mainly used to treat epilepsy and convulsions.

Shi Yufen was still very slender at that time, with a touch of girlish shyness. She would lower her head whenever she met someone, and when people called her "Little Mrs. Liang," she would smile slightly. Liang Song had secretly drunk some iron-flesh drink when the adults weren't looking. Although it was colorless and tasteless, Liang Song could feel an incredibly fishy and greasy taste. Thinking about this made Liang Song's stomach start to feel uncomfortable, and he tried hard not to focus on his stomach.

At that moment, he saw He Huanhuan. She was wearing a beige dress, blending into the distant mist. He Huanhuan was his ex-girlfriend with whom he had an on-and-off relationship; he didn't know why they got together, and he didn't know why they broke up. Actually, many things in life are like that; in retrospect, they're too complicated, and ultimately boil down to one sentence: "I don't know why." He Huanhuan's head was turned at an odd angle, as if gazing at the sky, standing there blankly.

Suddenly, she crouched down, lying prone on the ground like a four-legged creature, resembling a giant lizard from a distance. She seemed to have spotted Liang Song, slowly and stiffly turning her body, sniffing deeply, searching, long drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. A demonic beast? Would she be hunted? Thump, thump… Liang Song heard his own heart pounding violently—it was fear, pure and simple fear.

His instinct was to run, but he suddenly found himself unable to move. "Move! Hurry!" He looked down at his legs, which were bound by several thick hemp ropes. He couldn't move. He tried to reach out and untie the ropes, but his hands wouldn't move either. In a surge of overwhelming terror, he suddenly opened his eyes.

It was all a dream.

The surroundings remained pitch black, with several enormous statues still standing silently in the darkness. Was he still in Mount Aimang? Why couldn't he move? Besides the drowsiness, there was also cold. Liang Song looked down at himself, trying to make sense of it: he seemed to be tied to an old, flat door panel, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. Robbery? Sexual assault? These were the only two words that came to his mind for a moment.

A mountain spirit? Was it a mountain spirit? He looked around. The mountain spirit was probably crouching above his head; he couldn't see what she was doing, only hear his soft breathing mixed with the rustling sounds. A surge of anger rose in Liang Song's heart: Mountain spirit! He howled.

The rustling and breathing stopped for a moment, then resumed. Suddenly, his face felt wet as a brush touched it, paused briefly, and then began to move, the strokes intricate. The mountain spirit's face appeared above him, only a dozen centimeters away, its expression very experienced.

A slightly damp, warm breath brushed against his face, tickling and irritating. The brush moved lower, tracing its way down his neck to his chest and lower abdomen, then lingering on his abs. His eight-pack abs! He wailed, "Mountain spirit, what are you doing?"

"I'm not a mountain spirit." The mountain spirit sniffed. "My name is Li Jushuang."

The mountain spirit was mature beyond his years.

"Ju Shuang?" Liang Song didn't have the ability to put the words "Refuse Frost" together at this moment. "Okay, Li Ju Shuang, listen to me, let me go first, I'll give you whatever you want, money, phone, watch... oh yes, and chocolate, have you ever had chocolate, it's very delicious..." Liang Song lowered his voice, thinking that perhaps the mountain spirit had its eye on his phone, after all, when he took it out, the mountain spirit, no, Li Ju Shuang, glanced at it several times.

"Ji Shuang, Ji Shuang, what were this guy's parents thinking, giving their child such a ridiculous name?" "Li Ju Shuang, let's talk this out, right? See how cooperative I am? Let me go, I promise I won't resist... You must have accomplices, right? Call them out. If you can't make the decision, I can talk to them directly..."

"Come out, all of you come out. You don't need to be so rude. You're just asking for money, it shouldn't lead to someone's death. Let's talk this out..." The voice echoed in the empty hall, but no one else responded.

The mountain spirit's brush fell again, this time wetter and colder. The brush danced across its body, as if drawing some strange symbol. This task seemed a bit difficult for the mountain spirit, and it stopped several times to think carefully.

The cat named Nandou was also there, its expression a half-smile in the flickering light and shadow. Finally, the painting was finished. The mountain spirit stood up and carefully put away its brush. It then took fire from the charcoal brazier and lit an oil lamp at its head and tail. The faint flame flickered gently with the mountain breeze that entered the hall.